by June Taylor
‘Yeah, me too,’ Eloise replied, realizing how much she still missed him.
‘Once, I was so convinced it was him I followed a complete stranger all the way to Stockport. Can you believe it?’ She laughed at the memory, pulling Eloise into her. ‘Grief’s a strange thing. But we get through it, don’t we?’ Eloise nodded. ‘And we were very lucky to have him in our lives,’ she added, patting her leg.
It made her think of her dad’s note.
‘Did Dad know about any of that stuff, Mum?’
‘What stuff?’
‘What happened in France?’
‘Does it matter? He’s not here now.’
‘It matters to me,’ she said, kicking her heels back against the wall.
Chrissy detected her frustration. ‘The answer is, yes. He did know, Eloise.’
‘Everything?’
‘Yes. And I know it matters to you. Of course it matters.’
For a brief second, Eloise wondered whether she should show the note to her mother, but thought better of it. Even a coded reference to what she had done would most likely send her into a panic. And the note into the river. She gave her mother a sideways look and changed the subject. ‘Juliet’s jealous of you, you know. No, seriously, she is.’
‘What?’ Chrissy laughed. ‘How did you figure that one out?’
‘Because you got your happy ending and she didn’t. She told me.’
‘When?’
‘When we went out together. The night you didn’t come.’
‘Hm. That one. Well what did she mean by “happy ending”?’
Eloise shrugged. ‘I guess because Luca’s her fourth husband, and they don’t seem to spend much time together. Plus, she hasn’t got any kids.’
Chrissy pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them into herself.
‘I mean, she knows Dad died and everything. And those things that happened in France, she knows they still bother you. I mean, like, a lot.’
‘So what else did she say?’
‘Not much really. Just that you have a lovely daughter.’
‘And?’
‘How talented and gorgeous she is.’
Chrissy pretended to tip her over the edge.
‘Mum!’
‘Don’t worry, I won’t let you drown,’ she said, pulling her back up.
Chrissy slid off the wall and offered Eloise a hand. She jumped down, getting her hair ruffled when she landed, and she gave her mother a reluctant smile, squinting into the sun.
As they were heading back, Eloise began to feel the nerves kicking in at the thought of seeing Juliet again on Sunday. The last time was in Manchester when Chrissy had told her to leave and never come back. That seemed like an age ago now, yet only two weeks had gone by.
‘How are you feeling about seeing Juliet again, Mum?’
It was a mistake to ask. It changed her mood and she quickened her pace, saying: ‘I told you, I’m here because of you, Eloise. Not Juliet.’
CHAPTER 19
London: 2007
The photo weighed heavily on her mind. Still lying face down in that drawer, and Juliet was bound to notice it missing, not least because of the damage it had done to her bedroom wall. Eloise had considered hanging it up again but wasn’t sure if it would only make things worse between them, and she desperately wanted to steer them away from yet another disaster.
There was another hour to go before Juliet was due back. Chrissy seemed surprisingly relaxed, sitting out on the terrace with a book, and Eloise badly needed to occupy herself, unable to concentrate, pacing about the apartment.
Juliet’s office was a room she had been in before, even sat at her desk, spun round in the chair in front of the white Mac next to the white telephone. Everything in there was white. The only splash of colour came from the fashion magazines and glossy art books in the bookcase, which was also white.
Without realizing she was even doing it, Eloise began to pull open the drawers in the desk. There was nothing of interest in any of them, although the top one was locked. Telling herself she shouldn’t really be snooping anyway she stood up to leave, running her fingers along the array of fashion mags on her way out. Then she noticed a key poking out of one of them.
She tried it in the drawer, smiling to herself when it unlocked.
Not quite what she had expected to find: the Polaroid that her mother had told her about, of Juliet with her dad holding the yellow bear, was resting on top of an old-fashioned photo album.
Eloise gave the office door a quick shove with her foot. She didn’t want Chrissy to suddenly appear. Then she began flicking through the pages.
It was all there: the picture of them on Clifton Suspension Bridge, the party in Cowper Road, one of her mum in the purple raincoat, another of her dancing in the green dress, several more of the two of them together in Bristol. Two best friends. Her mother, happy, in another life. There were no others of France, she noticed.
She was just about to lock the drawer again when she saw something else tucked towards the back. It was a purple notebook. She pulled it out and began to leaf through its graph-paper pages. There were columns of numbers, things recorded in blocks. It seemed boring at first, maybe a book of accounts, and then she looked more closely at one of the entries.
‘Daughter: 8.40 left flat. Daughter: 9.10 arrived Maria’s Café, Oxford Rd.’
Then another:
‘Daughter: Eloise. Manchester Sixth Form College.’
And so it went on. It mentioned her mother too: the times she had left the flat, but no record of where she went.
A shiver ran down her spine. How long had Juliet been watching them?
‘Hello?’ called a familiar voice.
Juliet was back early.
Eloise put the notebook and album back in the drawer, remembering to put the loose photo on top. Her fingers fumbled trying to lock it again. She also had to remember to replace the key between the pages of the magazine where she had found it.
‘Hi! Sorry, didn’t hear you come in. I’ve just been looking at all your fashion books,’ she tried to say nonchalantly when she ran into Juliet in the hallway.
To her relief, Juliet threw her arms wide and gave Eloise the biggest hug.
She noticed her mother hovering. When she caught her eye she immediately let go of Juliet, launching into an account of what they had been up to and what a fabulous time they were having in London.
It seemed to work.
‘Eloise! At least let Juliet get her bags in,’ said Chrissy.
Helping to carry her things through, Eloise tried to give Juliet a coded message that she needed to speak to her urgently. She wanted to warn her about the photograph missing from the wall. But Chrissy was hot on their trail, following them into the bedroom. When she realized that Juliet had given up her own room for her, Chrissy seemed embarrassed.
Juliet held up her hands, saying: ‘As long as you’re having the best time—’ coming to an abrupt stop.
She had spotted it.
‘… that’s all that matters to me.’
‘You need to destroy that photograph, Juliet. You should have done it years ago.’
Chrissy stormed out, and Juliet sank down onto the bed.
‘How is she?’ she said, quietly.
‘She’s been okay actually.’ Eloise pointed to the drawer. ‘On the whole.’
Juliet nodded.
They found Chrissy staring out of the window, chewing on her fingernails. She turned round when she heard them come in.
‘So,’ said Juliet, rubbing her hands together, ‘are we all set for a spin on The ’Eye? We’re booked on for five thirty. If that’s okay with you guys? I’ve just a few calls to make, emails to send, boring stuff, and then I’m done.’
‘Fine,’ said Chrissy. ‘Would you like me to make a cup of tea, Ju?’ She paused, as if she had startled herself. ‘Juliet,’ she said, disappearing quickly.
Juliet pulled Eloise out onto the balcony. ‘So what about Italy? Ar
e we on?’
It hadn’t even occurred to her since they had been in London, and even if it had she probably wouldn’t have mentioned it.
Chrissy reappeared. Did Juliet still take one sugar in her tea? Weak, without milk? Unless she preferred Earl Grey. If so, she would leave the teabag in for five minutes.
It was Juliet’s turn to look perturbed. ‘Yes,’ she replied, her voice shaky. ‘One sugar, no milk. Oh god, sorry. Really sorry.’ She fished out a tissue from her jacket and dabbed at her eyes, being careful not to smudge her make-up.
Eloise hadn’t noticed until now but that was where the cat brooch was pinned today, on her pocket.
Juliet blew her nose. ‘You remembered, Chrissy. After all this time. Sorry, I’m being stupid.’
Chrissy lingered, weighing up her response. ‘No, it’s not stupid. Some things you can’t forget.’
***
The capsule doors swished together, sealing them in. Juliet had organized a private flight on the London Eye, so they had it all to themselves. Chrissy immediately began fanning herself with the souvenir brochure. ‘How long does it take?’ she asked.
‘About thirty minutes,’ Juliet replied. ‘Are you okay?’
Chrissy nodded. ‘Sitting down I’ll be fine. I didn’t realize it would be quite so hot.’
The view changed by small degrees, although it hardly felt like they were rotating at all. Juliet pointed out Wimbledon, Hampton Court, Battersea Power Station, other places on the outskirts. ‘That’s Windsor Castle over there. You can just about see it. And we live …’ Her finger traced a rough outline on the glass as she tried to locate it. They were almost at the top now. ‘… Well, there’s the wall you were sitting on this afternoon. So if we just—’
‘Hang on a minute,’ said Chrissy. ‘How do you know that?’
‘What?’
‘That we were sitting on a wall.’
‘Anton saw us, Mum. He’s Juliet’s driver. I didn’t think he’d seen us, but obviously he had.’ She threw Juliet a look, but Juliet merely smiled and carried on.
‘Okay. So, round about there … where my finger is … see it?… that’s where we live.’ Turning to Chrissy, she added: ‘You know, I always think of Bristol when I see the Millennium Footbridge. Maybe that’s why I chose it.’
‘So you could dance on it in your knickers?’ Eloise sniggered. She got a frown from her mother, and Juliet seemed embarrassed. Then she remembered the seriousness of the incident and regretted her comment.
‘You really have told her everything,’ said Juliet.
‘Just about.’ Chrissy gave Juliet a sarcastic smile.
‘Well, anyway, they had to close the bloody thing soon after it opened because it swayed too much and people were terrified.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ said Chrissy. She was concentrating on her breathing, still fanning herself.
‘I never knew you had a thing with heights,’ said Juliet. ‘You used to be fine in Bristol.’
‘I think it’s the confined space,’ Eloise explained.
‘I’m fine,’ said Chrissy. ‘It’s warm in here, that’s all.’
‘Hope you’ll be all right in Rome,’ said Juliet.
Her remark was left suspended mid-air. But as their capsule was nearing the end of its rotation, Eloise couldn’t hold back any longer.
‘We can go to Rome, Mum. Can’t we?’
‘Does this thing go any faster?’ Chrissy replied. ‘I swear it’s getting hotter.’ The early evening sunshine was flooding in, a spotlight bearing down on them. ‘And no. We are not going to Italy, Eloise.’
‘Oh, but Mum—’
‘I said, no.’
‘Why “no”?’ She watched her mother wiping sweat from her forehead. ‘Is it because you think you might get caught? Is that the reason?’
Juliet remained silent, even though Eloise was looking to her for backup.
‘We went to Bruges, Mum, and that was okay. I know it was only a long weekend, but even so.’
Not a word. Not from either of them.
‘And why would they even be looking for you? You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not like anyone died.’
Juliet sat down next to Chrissy. ‘She doesn’t know?’
‘Of course I know,’ said Eloise. ‘She whacked him in the face with his belt and made a gash down his stomach. He deserved it.’
And then it struck Eloise: the way they were both staring at her.
‘Oh god, he didn’t … Did he?’
They were moments away from the capsule doors opening.
‘I killed him, Eloise.’
‘It was an accident,’ said Juliet.
Suddenly the heat was getting to Eloise, too. She felt trapped inside this strange glass bubble. ‘But you can’t have, Mum. That’s ridiculous.’
She sat on the other side of her mother, who was nodding her head in small movements.
‘Well, are you sure? Maybe he wasn’t dead.’
‘He was,’ she said in a whisper.
The doors opened; they had to get off.
Juliet helped Chrissy onto the platform; she was beginning to hyperventilate. Eloise stood apart, trying to make sense of what she had just heard. She couldn’t bear to be near them and felt sick.
Running – fast – made her feel even more sick, so she slowed to a walking pace. A sign for the Underground gave her something to aim for. Green Park, Bond Street, St John’s Wood, Swiss Cottage; she hadn’t even heard of some of these places, but she didn’t care. She needed to get away, be among strangers.
Then she felt someone grab her arm.
‘Where are you going?’
Anton’s steely glare emerged above the crush of people. The tube doors were about to close. She leapt from the train and ran across to the opposite platform where another train’s doors snapped shut behind her. He couldn’t possibly have been that quick.
The carriage was half-empty and Eloise returned to a state of calm.
For hours she rode aimlessly up and down the Tube network, until she was eventually apprehended by the Transport Police for jumping the barrier and not having a ticket.
It was Juliet who came to her rescue.
‘I’ll pay the fine,’ she said, elbowing her way through into the tiny office waving her credit card around. ‘How much is it? This poor girl has been through a lot, you know. Her father died and her mother’s very ill.’
In the end Juliet only had to pay for a travel card.
Afterwards they went into some luminous pink-fronted café near the tube station, where Eloise burst into tears.
‘It’s okay, Eloise. You have a good cry.’
Juliet put a chocolate milkshake down in front of her, which Eloise hadn’t ordered but she didn’t complain. Then she sat beside her, pulling the chair in closer.
‘Why is Anton still following me?’ asked Eloise. ‘I don’t like it.’
Juliet stroked her hair. ‘Oh, well I just asked him to keep an eye on you both in London. It’s such a big city, I assumed you wouldn’t know it very well. If at all. I’ll tell him to back off, shall I?’
Eloise nodded and Juliet held her shoulders, which made her feel safe again.
‘Where’s Mum?’ she asked, sweeping the tears off her face.
‘Oh, she’s fine, don’t worry. She’s back at my place.’
Eloise slurped the chocolate milkshake up through the straw, feeling a childish glow from Juliet’s kindness wrapped round her like a comfort blanket.
‘I’m sorry, Juliet.’
‘You don’t have to be sorry. I thought she’d told you everything. She told you about me prancing about on the Suspension Bridge in my underwear, but not that she – well anyway.’
‘She’s not actually ill though, is she?’
‘No, no. I only said that so they’d let you off. She is traumatized though. It never really goes away.’
‘I can’t believe she killed him,’ Eloise whispered.
Juliet stared into her espre
sso. ‘For me. She did it for me.’ She sighed. ‘You must really hate me for that, Eloise.’
‘I don’t hate you. What happened, it wasn’t your fault. But, oh god …’ She felt the tears returning. ‘Please don’t give up on her, Juliet. She needs a friend. Someone who knows what happened.’
‘Of course not,’ she replied, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. ‘I’m not going anywhere. And besides,’ she added, drumming her fingernails against her cup, ‘I have an idea.’
‘What?’
‘Just persuade her to come to Italy.’
***
It wasn’t until they were back in Manchester that Chrissy would say any more. Eloise couldn’t even remember the train journey home. It seemed they had entered a tunnel and never come out again. Not a word was said. But the moment they stepped through the door she fired questions at her mother: ‘You should have told me. Why didn’t you? Why keep that bit from me?’
Chrissy threw down her bags and walked to the other side of the room, crushing her head with her hands. ‘How do you tell your own daughter such a thing, Eloise? I killed someone.’
Eloise took her arm and made her sit down. She realized this wasn’t about her any more.
‘So when did you know, Mum?’
She didn’t want to hear it, any more than Chrissy wanted to share it, but they had reached the point of no return.
CHAPTER 20
France: summer, 1989
‘Go get cleaned up, Ju. Go take a shower.’
Chrissy even thought she was beginning to pull round, being more like Juliet again, but as her eyes drifted back to her attacker laid out on the bed, blood slowly creeping across the pale lemon sheets, Juliet began to shake. So Chrissy could only assume that she had gone into shock.
‘It’s okay, I’ll sort this,’ she said. ‘Give me your clothes.’
‘What? What clothes?’
‘The ones you have on. We need to take everything with us, Ju. Can’t leave a trace.’
‘No, we can’t leave a trace,’ she said, dreamily.